


Did you see them dancing?

by Dats_der_bunny



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: Going Postal (Discworld), Canon Disabled Character, Dancing, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, but so is the fic so i guess that's all good, these tags are a mess, we're just having entire conversations exclusively in subtext apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dats_der_bunny/pseuds/Dats_der_bunny
Summary: Umm how to summarize this... A sort of missing scene from Going Postal, I suppose! Exploring how Vetinari feels when it's starting to become clear that Moist von Lipwig is here to stay. It's complicated. And Vimes is adorable. And he can't dance. So it's all very fluffy.Inspired by this artwork by @mario-art on Tumblr; it's an absolutely stunning piece of work!https://mario-art.tumblr.com/post/636142674764775424/for-now-he-flew-he-was-back-in-the-game-but
Relationships: Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	Did you see them dancing?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back in the game! I've missed these two so much. As ever, please do let me know what you think, feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Many, many thanks to braigwen_s for helping me get past the writer's block!

Vetinari was still sitting at his desk, but his gaze had been drawn to the window, in the direction of the Post Office this time. There was still a little smoke and ash lazily drifting up from the remains of the building to join the rest of the evening haze, although the fire itself had long since gone out.

Vimes was racking his brains for something to say, but it was clear that the official meeting had ended, and he wasn’t quite sure what had begun in its place. It was one of those days where Vimes almost wondered whether Vetinari had actually moved from that chair at all since their meeting the previous day.

At last, Vetinari broke the silence. ‘Did you see them dancing?’

Ah. Vimes sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Over the years, Vetinari had been slowly growing in the confidence he needed to make big changes to the operation of the city, taking bigger and bigger personal risks to his own life to make a real difference. The latest of these had been taking a gamble on the likes of Mr Lipwig. But it all happened behind the scenes, so what did he have to show for it? Some flashy little bastard swanning into the city and putting on a show, then taking all the credit?

Not that Vetinari had ever cared about the credit, and if asked directly, the reply would involve the phrase “for the good of the city”… But it must be hurting him, Vimes knew.

‘Come here.’

‘Sam—'

‘ _Come here_.’

Vetinari sighed as he turned back to look at Vimes, but his expression softened a little when he saw Sam’s outstretched hand. He gave a small smile and took his hand.

‘Dance with me?’ said Vimes, as he helped Vetinari up. ‘Unless you’d rather dance with the Dearheart girl instead?’

Vetinari glanced up at the ceiling, appearing to consider this. ‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘The cigar smoke is a little better than cigarettes… On the other hand, I don’t fancy my chances with those stiletto heels of hers…’

‘Yeah, alright, you’ve made your point,’ said Vimes, pulling Vetinari towards the middle of the room and into his arms.

It would have helped, it had to be said, if they were both dancing at the same tempo, or at least in the same time signature; and Vetinari did indeed say so.

‘Yeah, alright,’ Vimes grumbled, ‘Just be grateful I haven’t trodden on your toes.’

‘Yet,’ Vetinari supplied.

‘Yet,’ Vimes said, with more emphasis than strictly necessary.

Vetinari chuckled and pulled Vimes closer, so that they were just swaying rather than attempting to fuse a waltz with… whatever Vimes was doing.[1]

‘Is that leg of yours alright?’ Vimes asked. Normally, he didn’t much like asking it, since Vetinari didn’t much like talking about it, but then again, they weren’t normally dancing.

‘It’s fine,’ said Vetinari.

Vimes found himself trying so hard to interpret the precise length of the pause, the tone he’d used and his choice of words that if anything he was less sure now than before he’d asked the question.

Vetinari sighed. ‘I do sometimes wish that people would believe me when I say it’s fine.’

‘I do believe you,’ said Vimes.

‘Besides,’ Vetinari continued, ‘It is good to keep it moving like this; sitting still for too long does it no favours at all.’

‘Hm. Pity you can’t extend the same sentiment to the Commander of the Watch.’ This earned him a little laugh and he smiled too. ‘My knees are the same these days,’ he said with a sigh.

‘We’re getting old, Sam.’

Vimes chuckled. ‘ _Getting_ old?’ he said. ‘I think that ship has sailed, love.’

Vetinari chuckled too, and that was a relief because Vimes was almost certain that he wasn’t talking about his leg anymore.

Vimes paused before he spoke again. ‘Can I stay tonight?’ he asked, more quietly than he’d intended. He knew perfectly well that Vetinari could see right through what he was doing; phrasing the question as though it was for his benefit alone.

He’d wondered about that more often than he’d care to admit, often on those precious few _real_ patrols that he’d managed to sneak into the rota, often by forming temporary alliances with Angua or Cheery and convincing them to look the other way.

It was how they communicated when they needed to talk about feelings that were too big for either of them to handle. It was how Vimes told Vetinari: I need a drink more than usual and I don’t want to be alone tonight; or: it wasn’t personal when I got angry earlier, but I don’t have the words to say I’m sorry; or simply: I’ve missed you.

Or, in this particular case: I’m really worried that you’re having some kind of mid-life crisis or something, and I don’t have the words to make it better, because I feel the just the same when Captain Carrot tries to be helpful, although I feel rotten whenever I do because I know damn well that it isn’t the poor lad’s fault.

We’re scared of becoming redundant, of being tidied away to make room for a younger model, only the younger model isn’t hypothetical anymore. And deep down, we know it’s what the world will need, one day.

But that day isn’t today. Not yet. We are here, and this is now; we are in the Oblong Office, and we’re dancing.

…Well, we’re… _sort of_ dancing, anyway.

He suddenly had that familiar feeling that he’d missed part of the conversation.

‘Hmm?’

Vetinari laughed again. ‘I said “yes, you know the drill”.’

Vimes nodded. He did indeed know the drill. It didn’t take much to outwit the Palace Guard and sneak back into the Palace after dark, although he was too afraid to ask just how much the dark clerks knew about it. He’d long ago decided that ignorance was bliss.

‘He’ll be here soon,’ said Vetinari, with a glance at the clock. ‘It’s almost quarter to seven.’ He paused. ‘Which officer did you send to fetch him, may I ask?’

Vimes stopped moving and fixed his gaze on the wall over Vetinari’s shoulder. ‘Sergeant Detritus, sir,’ he said, in his patent-pending “Oblong Office” voice.

‘Ah. Capital.’

Vetinari raised his hand to allow Vimes to give a very passable twirl; then he bowed theatrically and kissed Vimes’s hand.

‘Oh, you smooth bastard,’ said Vimes, rolling his eyes and fervently hoping that he couldn’t feel a blush starting to creep up his face despite his best efforts.

And even Havelock Vetinari couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.

‘I should go, I’ve already been in here for longer than I should’ve been.’

Vetinari nodded and let go of Vimes’s hand. Within a few strides he was back at his desk; looking as though he’d never dream of being anywhere else, and order was once again restored to the Oblong Office.

Vimes turned to leave, but Vetinari called him just before he reached the door.

‘Sam?’

‘Hmm?’ Vimes turned back to face him.

‘Thank you.’

[1] Vetinari would have been most amused to learn that Vimes had, in fact, been attempting a two-step.


End file.
